You Be My Hero, I'll Be Yours

She looked puzzled but stopped. Adjusting his shirt and tie as he went, he exaggerated a tip-toe walk to the window that over looked the porch, pulled a string.

They were rewarded by a high pitched scream followed by laughter. "Okay. That ghost works. Thanks for waiting."

"Trick. Or. Treat." The hollers were young and excited as the door was opened. One continued with "Hi, Auntie Cher!"

"Hey, Dougie." Cheryl greeted the beaming clown, no more than five years old. "Aren't you scared of the big bad witch?"

"Cherie's not scary." He looked surprised, giggled at his own rhyme.

The young mother escorting the tikes held out a thermos. Cheryl took it from her immediately. "Thanks, Beth."

"What's that, Mom?"

"That's tradition. I always bring my favorite skyscraper of a witch hot chocolate. To keep her fortified."

The lid was unscrewed and the witch bent over it, sniffing at the steamy contents. "Smells dreamy."

"Let me smell it." It was the clown again. His companion in costume, a tutu-ed ballerina, stayed silent.

"Speaking of dreamy," Beth continued as Cheryl knelt, held the thermos out for little Dougie. The mother was studying Chaz, her grin mischievous. "She's a witch, obviously, but what exactly are you? The world's most beefy IRS agent, with special sharp red-ink pens that shoot out of your fingers?"

"Ooh. Mom! This hot chocolate smells funny." Chaz thanked the little clown silently for the interruption.

"It's an acquired taste, Dougie-doodle." The crouching witch shrugged.

"'Quire taste?' I didn't getta taste it." Little hands covered Cheryl's, pulling the full thermos to his mouth."

"No!" His mother was already lunging for him. Cheryl stood, deftly lifting the hot chocolate up and out of grasping hands. What was going on with the drink?

"Mom." Tutu finely spoke, adding a stomped foot. She shook her hollow plastic pumpkin. It echoed with the lonely sound of a single candy bar, the one a witch had dropped in it moments ago. "Trick or treat!"

"Yeah! Trick or treat!" Clown joined in, his interest in the hot chocolate gone with a single, firm 'No!'

"Go get that sugar, kids! Thanks for the fortification, Beth." Cheryl swept by, in front of the open door. "Oh, more trick-or-treaters. It's Mark and Amy and the kids. Clark? Would you handle the candy? I need to get this to the kitchen."

"Sure, I got this."

"Nice to meet you, Clark." Beth gave him a further appraisal. "Come on kids."

She leaned back as Tutu and Dougie started down the front walk toward the group approaching the house.

"If you hurt her in any way, Clark whatever-your-name is, I will make sure someone you have never met will find you when you least suspect it and introduce you to pain that will, well, hurt. A lot." Her voice petered off as words failed.

"That started much more threatening than it ended." He tried to avoid laughing, managed to limit it to a clenched jaw and tight sealed lips only minimally curled up into amusement.

"I know. Right? Dammit."

"But I get your point. I would never want to hurt her."

The mother in her glanced over her shoulder, saw her brood had mingled in, talking with Mark and Amy's pack. Apparently safe company. Less motherly, the glare she gave him seemed more vengeful-assassin. "That's a good start. I will check in on you later, Clark."

Three kids, with a new offering of candy, and their parents were headed back down the walk before any contraption was activated. Mark's step wandered wide of the path proper, onto a flat flagstone. From the door, Chaz couldn't see the skeleton's hand that rose on a counterweight, fingers flopping open into what would look momentarily like a deathly grasp. A moment that yielded a ragged screech of terror from the father accompanied by an involuntary high-kneed jig.

The kids and mom laughed. Another troop of costumes heading toward the house joined in. Chaz caught the merest hint of an annoyed glance his way before the door closed and a giggle reached his ear.

Cheryl had pushed the door shut. A mug of the chocolate in one hand, she grinned at him. "That was perfect. Mark squealing like a little baby. The officious ass."

He felt an inner glow at her satisfaction.

"So." He pointed at the mug. "What's with..."

The bell rang again, accompanied by more childlike voices through the door.

The evening stayed busy after that, with the house apparently on every local 'must-visit' list for Halloween. The spring-loaded ghosts failed twice, but Chaz was on the fix immediately. By the third time a child asked about him, who 'the new big man' was, he had his routine down.

Glasses off. "In his guise as a mild-mannered reporter."

Tie loosened. "For a quaint metropolitan newspaper."

Shirt tugged open. "It's..."

And let the kids, usually accompanied by their parents, cry out "Superman!"

Cheryl clapped for their excited response. Her laughter and playfulness had only grown as the night progressed, along with more frequent casual, fleeting touches, her hand resting on his arm, or a shoulder, for thrilling, too-short moments.

The bowl of candy was almost empty when the rush finally slowed. Leaning against the door, he crossed his arms in the tight blazer, tried again: "What's up with the hot chocolate?"

"Oh. I should have offered you some before it got busy. Beth always makes me her family secret chocolate on Halloween." Her voice lowered to a stage whisper. "The secret is whiskey."

He laughed. "I thought so. She did say it was 'fortified,' didn't she?"

"She did indeed. Want some?"

"You know, I think I'll take you up on that."

"Good. You deserve a drink. I'll pour you one."

She was returning with a mug for him when the bell rang again, accompanied by a high-pitched lisp, faint through the door. "Aunt Cher, open up! Twick or tweat!"

He could picture Tutu's foot stomping with the demand. Cheryl swung the door open, ushering Beth and the kids in.

"Well, somebody's cheeks look rosy now. Feeling fortified, my pretty?"

Cheryl nodded at her friend and benefactor. "Quite."

"Did you share any?"

"We were just discussing that," this time the witch crouched near Dougie's little sister, adjusted the ribbon in her hair. "When I heard a certain young ballerina outside my door, calling loudly for entry."

"I'm a bal-a-weena."

"I know. I was talking about you."

"Oh."

Cheryl looked up at her friend. "Any more groups still out in the neighborhood?"

"Nope. We're the last. I thought we should check on you one last time, especially with reports of a monstrously large IRS agent loose in the area." Beth was sizing him up again, one brow raised. "And that brings us back to you, Mr. Muscles. Who or what are you supposed to be."

"Well..." He reached for his glasses.

"Wait!" Cheryl stood as quickly as she had earlier pulling the spiked drink out of Dougie's grip. "Let me show her."

Chaz was not expecting the fitted black dress to be pressed so close against his back, long arms wrapping around him from behind. One hand tugged down on his tie, though he was distracted by the warm whiskey-scented breath at his neck.

"He may look like a body-building accountant, or a quaint, bespectacled reporter from a mild-mannered newspaper, but really" -- she yanked both halves of his shirt wide -- "he's..."

Beth and both children completed the sentence, yelling "Superman!"

Chaz managed a pose, chin high and heroic, even after the shock of feeling Cheryl's hands dragging across his chest, over both nipples, as they exposed the "S" emblem. She still leaned close to him, hands now on his shoulders, the extra pressure where breasts squeezed against his back obvious, distracting. "Uh. If we're done with trick or treaters, I'll go disconnect the kinetics."

"Kinetics?" It was Beth.

"Everything that moves out there. Ghosts popping up, tombstones creaking with the wind." Discussing mechanical devises made for a much more comfortable Chaz. "The neighbors don't want to hear any ghostly groans from Cheryl's holiday graveyard in the middle of the night."

"Moans in the middle of the night? Coming from this house tonight? Nope. I'm not going there."

"Beth Ann!" Cheryl protested from close behind him, laughing, letting her hands drop away as she back up. He felt immediately conflicted: both relieved and disappointed by the contact's withdrawal. At least he wouldn't have to be the one who pulled away when he looked after the decorations.

Dougie's mouth stretched wide in a sudden yawn.

"Are you tired, kiddo? It's time for both of you to be in bed." Beth was herding them toward the door.

"Goodnight you two. Kids; say goodnight."

"G'night, aunt Cher, g'night Superman." They chimed in.

He followed them out, eager to get the initial disassembly over and done with. Again, Beth turned for a warning. "Good night to you, Clark. Don't make me have to track you down."

"You won't. Oh. But if you ever do, my name's Chaz. Chaz Fulmer. Not Clark. Clark Kent is, you know, an alias for the evening."

He enjoyed throwing her off for the second time, mid-threat. "Clark Ke...wait. You're the Fulmer's kid from next door. The chubby one that always followed Johnathan around."

"That's me."

"And you're not so chubby anymore."

"So I'm told."

"Still. The warning holds, even better now. Don't even think about hurting my sweet Cheryl. I know how to find your family."

*CHERYL*

She shook her head, then downed the last of her mug. After tossing the hat aside like a floppy frisbee, fingers fluffed her thick, freed hair in the mirror. It wasn't fair! How could he be Superman? After what she'd been recalling, when Johnathan wore the big gold S. And then Beth! Oh my god. Moans coming from the house in the middle of the night tonight? Seriously?

Long fingers fiddled with the button keeping the black dress high around her neck. They opened one, then a second. She remembered her arms struggling to reach around his bulk, how firm his chest felt under her dragging fingertips as she pulled back the sides of his shirt. As she undressed him. Okay, not quite undressed, but trending in that direction.

Maybe there would be a little moaning and groaning tonight, once she was very much alone, naked under the fluffy comforter that covered her too-big bed. She undid a third bottom, not only her throat but the highest regions of her chest exposed.

She jumped as the door suddenly opened. Chaz burst in with a quick, honest grin. "They're all disconnected. I can pack everything into the garage tomorrow morning."

He was so sweet.

The hot chocolate brought courage, erased hesitation. She stepped close as his broad back was toward her, closing the front door. Her arms wrapped around him -- part way at least -- as he turned. She tucked in close, against his chest, under his chin. "Thank you so much. Clark. You've been Super, Super helpful."

He chuckled, her head bouncing against him before she snuggled in closer under his jawline. His arms cinched tighter, one big hand stroking up to her neck, holding her close, the other low around her waist. She couldn't blame the drink alone: this felt too damn good.

"Seriously." She looked up, pretty sure she didn't allow her lips to brush against his neck as she did. The brief shudder passing through his thick torso was evidence that she may not have succeeded. His eyes studied her, nervous, so very close. Waiting for her to go on. "I couldn't have made it through tonight without your help, Chaz. Thank you."

Bless him, he blushed. At that moment, if he had tried to kiss her, using the hand on her neck to guide her lips up to his, she couldn't, wouldn't have said no. Not even once. But he didn't try. Bless him again.

*CHAZ*

He almost forgot to breath. She was so close, so right, so near, her whole long body leaning into him. "It's my pleasure, Miz...uh...Cheryl."

Her brows tightened, doubt, thoughts, indecision flashing across her unguarded, upturned face before it dipped back down, nuzzling in under his jaw again. Her gorgeous eyes no longer on him, he realized he'd seen a swath of bare skin exposed at her throat. She must have unbuttoned the high neck of her black dress. The tall hat was gone too, her thick hair loose, silky and almost ticklish against him. She smelled good. More than good. He wondered what he should say, dreaded saying the wrong thing, breaking the current spell.

Her cheek rubbed against him. Once, twice. He let his thumb circle, massage her neck up to the base of her skull.

"Mmm."

The sound was low, almost inaudible. He may have felt its vibration more than actually hearing it at all. Either way, the soft, satisfied sigh was intoxicating.

It was her turn to chuckle. "Um. Did I say that out loud?"

Her voice was muffled, close under his chin. A slim hand inched up between them, snaking under one side of his open blazer, into the open placket of his button-down shirt to settle over one side of the large central golden S. He reluctantly released her as she pushed herself back, Chaz very aware of the touch lingering on his chest. He was reluctant to breathe, as though the action might dislodge their sole remaining contact.

Her smile was little more than a shy twist of the lips, eyes bright, flitting. "Sorry. It...just felt really good. Been a long time since I've simply been held. Especially against a chest like this."

Chaz gasped, sucking in air as fingertips dragged directly over a nipple through his tight t-shirt.

Cheryl's jaw dropped, eyes suddenly wide. The hand was yanked away. "Oh god I'm so sorry. I didn't...I shouldn't have..."

"Shhh." She looked so sorrowful, almost panicked. Chaz reached out, gently eased her chin up. "Hey. Cheryl. Look at me."

Reluctantly, she did. He took a deep slow breath at the sight. Her eyes were innocent, though she was the older of the two. Shy, shifting, like they wanted desperately to trust him but still weren't quite sure. He knew he could get lost looking into eyes like these.

The same eyes twinkled as though she'd had a sudden idea, then dropped to openly drink in his torso. She nodded in approval. "Damn. You do have a really nice chest."

She bit down on her lip, considering...something. He welcomed the pause, trying to rein in his thoughts.

"Do you think you could...I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me, Charl...Chaz...but I could really use being..." She shook her head, hair floating outward with the sudden motion. "No! Please. Just forget that entirely. Please?"

What was she asking? Was she talking about sex? Nah. Had to be something else, but she had opened the collar on her dress. He was pretty sure she might havekissed his neck and she had definitely touched his nipple on purpose. And that tiny little vibrating 'Mmmm' of hers. Somehow, words tumbled out.

He wasn't sure how he managed avoid stuttering but he genuinely impressed himself with the outpouring.

"No." She stopped at the single short word. Not just stopped, but stilled, the nervous energy suddenly gone. She waited, intent, calm. "I could be wrong, Cheryl, but I got a strong sense that was important, that you were about to open up, take a chance, ask for something you really needed or wanted. Even if it's not something I can provide, you can trust me. I won't laugh, or judge you, or tell anyone. If you feel like sharing something personal with me, I honor that. I am honored by that. Okay?"

She nodded, light glistening in the corner of each eye.

"You said you could really use being...something. You're safe with me, Cheryl. If it's still as important to you as it seemed to be, take a chance. Ask."

*CHERYL*

She blew out a long breath, considering.

What was with this boy?

No. This man. He wasn't just big, strong, and smart. He sounded wise as well. Understanding. She felt, deep down, that she really could trust him. Okay, maybe the alcohol didn't help. But he had always been a serious kid, and trustworthy even then. Johnathan would let him use all the power tools unsupervised. She remembered her husband's shrug, accompanied by a half grin, when he'd told her a Charlie who couldn't have been more than a freshman in high school was staying in their garage until he finished welding a framework for one of kinetic displays.

And here he was now, a kid no longer, patient as he waited for her to sort through swirling feelings, thoughts, and -- yes -- desires. Patient and handsome. And thick. Really thick. God she wanted to be held tight, snuggle her head close in against a big strong chest, and just...be held, be comforted, be safe. But she didn't want to lead Chaz on, let him think there was any chance this could....No. Despite Beth's suggestions, she wasn't even going to think about that. No sense even cracking that door open.

Mind made up, she looked at him, the words ready: she was worn out, tired. Thanks so much for all your help. The hot chocolate had just made her babble, that's all. It was nothing. Goodnight.

But those easy, obvious, safe words didn't come out. Because Chaz chose that moment to grin a little. And then those thick shoulders had shrugged, once. He didn't look anything like Johnathan, not really, but at that moment one mirrored the other.

Her throat tightened, a sudden sob clutching at her heart. Tears released in a torrent and a wail escaped her. Then strong arms were tugging her close, and she clung at what was offered, to his heavy, thick form. The sobs wracked through her body then, a gate blown open that she had kept sealed for long, lonely months. First with Johnathan there, alive but fading, when she 'had to be strong, for him.' Then, so very alone, without him, without anyone she could be comfortable letting her guard down.

It was down now. And, bless him, Chaz didn't take advantage. He just held her, and held her some more, without hands roaming or kisses starting on top of her head, leading down to find her own, still blubbering lips.

Why not?

The thought gave her a focus away from the outpouring of grief, held back too long. Still held tight in his arms, she looked up at him. Her face must look a smeared mess, for the second time today, but his deep brown eyes only showed care, compassion, concern. Though the thumb was back, massaging at her nape.

*CHAZ*

"I can't kiss you." Her voice was thick with the tears. Was she telling him or herself? He wasn't sure.

"Um. Okay?" Of course he wanted to. She was tall, gorgeous, graceful, the standard he'd often compared other girls and women to, then seen them fail to meet. She was an ideal made real. But she was vulnerable now, and trying to take advantage of that wasn't right, wasn't the way he'd been taught to treat others, with respect.

Her eyes searched for something in his own, shifting their focus from one to the other. "No. I can't. It's been so long and I'm not ready to....if I kissed you now I don't think I could stop myself. From...going too far."

She might go too far? Like all the way too far? Even if now wasn't the time, the realization sent a charge through him.

"Cheryl." He saw her face change at her name. He wasn't sure what the change meant, but he liked it. He liked her attention focused on him. "I'm not going to do anything you don't want...aren't ready to do."

She gave him a tiny nod, accepting his words.

"So..." He thought he knew what she needed to hear. "We're not going to go too far, or really anywhere, tonight, I promise. Okay?"

Another small nod. This one was followed by a wry smile. "'Tonight?'"

He felt his cheeks flush, hot. "Well, uh, you can't blame a guy for holding out hope, can you?"

"You..." She let the sentence drop, tucking her head back down, against him. Her voice was muffled when she continued. "You said you promised, right? That you won't let us go too...anywhere?"

"Yes I did. And I mean it."